Soon Armitage returned, his arms filled with a great load of fern-leaves
and grass.
Grace followed him into the gloomy cave, the interior of which was now
quite dark. Laying his burden down, he prepared to arrange her couch.
"How would you like to lie?" he asked.
"I think I would prefer to lie in the open," she replied, with a little,
nervous shudder.
He shook his head.
"No--you'd better sleep in there," he said. "It may rain. Besides, we
don't know what may be roaming round here during the night. In there
you'll be protected on all three sides, and, as to the entrance, I'll
throw a few big branches across. Nothing can get past without you
knowing it."
"And where will you be?" she inquired timidly.
"Oh, I'll throw myself down by the fire. I'm accustomed to roughing
it."
The bed was swiftly made, soft and springy. All it lacked were pillow
and covering.
"Take my advice and don't sleep in your clothes," he said. "You can't
sleep properly unless you do, and you'll need all your strength. There's
no one to disturb you. You can use your dress for a pillow and your
mantle for a sheet. Don't be nervous. I'll be on hand if you want me.
Good night."
"Good night!" she echoed faintly.
He went out and she was alone. It was now quite dark outside. The night
was clear, and the heavens were studded with their countless stars. The
only light which entered the cave enabling her to grope her way about
was a ghostly flicker from the distant fire.
She tried the bed. It was fairly comfortable. Utterly exhausted, she
thought she ought to sleep until daylight. She surely would if only she
could calm her nerves and allay this persistent premonition of impending
peril. After all, she thought, it was foolish to be afraid. So far he
had been thoughtful and respectful, and given her no cause for alarm,
and as to wild animals, they couldn't get at her if the entrance were
closed. Should she disrobe entirely or remain fully dressed to be ready
for any emergency? Certainly she would be more comfortable undressed.
Besides, it was the only way in which she could get a pillow and
covering.
At that moment a heavy thud just outside made her heart leap to her
mouth.
"Who's there?" she cried out.
"It's only me," answered Armitage. "I'm fixing the door of your hotel. I
guess nothing can get in now. Good night."
"Good night!" she replied faintly.
She listened to his footsteps as they died away in the distance, and
slowly began to disrobe.
She was soon undressed and was about to get into bed and cover herself
up when a thought occurred to her. There was something still to be done.
Dropping on her knees, her bare feet on the cold sand, she buried her
face in her hands and for the first time in her life offered up a
fervent prayer to the unknown, Almighty Power that directs all things.
Grace had never been a devout girl. She had no decided metaphysical
views of any kind. She was merely indifferent. Given up solely to a life
of pleasure, religion to her had been only a word. Her parents had a
pew at St. Thomas', on Fifth Avenue, and when she had a new hat or a new
gown to show off, she attended the services in the same spirit that she
would go to the horse show or any other fashionable function. Never
until now had she felt the need of that moral support and encouragement
which never fails to bring comfort to the faithful in their hour of
trouble. She prayed earnestly to be saved from her present desperate
situation, for protection during the coming night, and she prayed also
for her late ship companions who at that moment might be suffering in
the open boats. This done, her mind felt easier, and, covering herself
as well as she could, she closed her eyes and courted sleep.
Happily the night was warm, otherwise her scant covering, consisting
solely of a thin mantle, would not have sufficed. Everything outside was
perfectly still. The lazy splash of the surf and the gentle murmur of
the breeze were the only sounds that reached her ears. Not hearing
Armitage moving about she concluded that he had rolled himself up near
the fire and gone to sleep.
She closed her eyes, and, lulled into drowsiness by the distant music of
the sea, she gradually sank into the delicious semi-conscious state that
just precedes slumber. Through her tired brain passed confused mental
pictures of the extraordinary happenings of the last forty-eight
hours--the dance on the deck, the sudden storm, the shock as the great
liner struck the sunken reef, the rush for the life-boats, her fall into
the water and the long swim until she came to herself on this island and
recognized the refractory stoker, Armitage, as her rescuer. She wondered
if he was really as black as he had been painted. If he was, she had
seen nothing of his bad qualities. He was only a stoker--a superior one
to be sure, from his conversation and knowledge of things--and so far he
had behaved like a gentleman.
She wondered what she would do if suddenly he forced his way in now and
attacked her. Would she scream, or faint, or do any of the hysterical
things a woman is supposed to do in such circumstances? Her mind dwelt
upon his personal appearance. She recalled how handsome, and graceful,
and strong he looked as he came along the beach at a swinging gait,
bringing to her that greatly needed breakfast, which she had devoured
with such appetite. From him, her thoughts traveled homeward. She saw
her poor mother and father grieving for her, and her supposed loss the
sensation of the hour in their immediate circle of friends. Then her
thoughts grew mixed and confused. Her breathing grew more regular, her
bosom rose and fell with rhythmic motion, her brain ceased thinking. She
was asleep.
* * * * *
The long hours of the night passed slowly. Her slumber had been as
peaceful and profound as that of a child when, about three o'clock, she
suddenly awoke with a start. At first she believed she was still in her
luxurious stateroom on board the _Atlanta_, but the rough couch, the
prickly points of which punctured her thin garment, and the splash of
the surf outside rudely reminded her of her misfortune.
She wondered what had interrupted her sleep. It was still pitch-dark and
everything was quiet, yet she was wide-awake with every sense and nerve
alert and tense. Like most persons who awake suddenly in the middle of
the night without being able to explain the cause, she was at once
seized with nervous dread. Something was wrong.
Hastily, fearfully she glanced around, but her eyes were unable to
penetrate the opaque darkness that surrounded her. The faint light that
came from the cave entrance only served to make the shadows deeper. She
strained her ears, but heard no sound. Yet she could not shake off the
terrifying suggestion that _some one_ or _something_ had entered the
cave while she was asleep and now stood in the shadows watching her,
perhaps waiting for an opportunity to attack her.
The more she thought of the possibility of such a thing, the more
alarmed she became, and her nervousness increased each minute until she
was bathed in perspiration from head to foot. She tried to reason with
herself, to shake off the impression, and with an exclamation of
impatience at her own childishness she turned over and again closed her
eyes. But as she moved _It_ moved also. Her alert ear caught the sound
of a slow and cautious movement, as if _some one_ or _something_ were
creeping on all fours toward her. Petrified with fright, her heart in
her mouth, she called out:
"Who's there?"
There was no answer, but the sound ceased.
Something was there, that was certain. At any moment it might spring
upon her. She shook with terror, her teeth chattered. She dare not make
a movement. Her ears were strained for sounds of further moves. Almost
rigid with fright, each passing moment seemed a century. If only she
could flee from there and reach the open. She was sorry now that
Armitage had left her alone. What would she not give to be able to call
him now to her aid!
Suddenly the bed moved as though _something_ had accidentally stumbled
against it. She distinctly heard a rustling sound as if _something_ had
grazed the branches of which her couch was built. The _Thing_, whatever
it was, man or beast, was close to her. The suspense was more than she
could bear. Almost swooning from terror she sprang up, and, leaning over
the side, peered into the darkness. What she beheld made the blood
freeze in her veins.
A long, slimy-looking, sinuous thing, almost as thick as a man's arm
and nearly six feet in length, was gliding slowly and aimlessly about in
the shadow. In the faint glimmer of light that struggled in from the
entrance to the cave was plainly discernible a pair of glistening eyes
set in a squat, flat head, and a cruel mouth with fanglike teeth in
which a forked tongue darted rapidly back and forth. It was a huge
hooded cobra, the deadliest of all the venomous serpents inhabiting
tropical Asia.
Panic-stricken, Grace opened her mouth to scream, but no sound issued
forth. She tried to flee, but some irresistible power held her rooted to
the spot. Every faculty, every muscle in her was paralyzed by
unspeakable horror.
With eyes dilated with terror, with every nerve tense to the
snapping-point, she watched with fearful fascination that hideous, slimy
head as with slow, rhythmic motion it swayed from side to side, the
forked tongue darting from the horrid mouth as lightning rends the
skies. Staring straight into the cruel, beady eyes, her fixed gaze
seemed riveted there against her will, as if the reptile had cast over
her a hypnotic spell. She felt herself gradually growing numb, cold
sweat burst from every pore, her flesh crept, and there was a tingling
sensation at the roots of her hair.
Each instant she expected that the cobra would dart forward and strike
her. The suspense was fearful. The seconds seemed like centuries. She
wondered when the fatal moment would come that would mean her death.
Certainly, all was over with her now. The storm, the shipwreck--that was
nothing. This new peril, a thousand times more deadly than those she had
emerged from safely, was momentarily coming nearer, and she was
powerless to avert it. She must be resigned to perish miserably and
cruelly the most shocking of deaths. Escape was out of the question.
Coiled up in threatening attitude at the foot of the bed the reptile was
between her and safety. If she attempted to run she would never reach
the open.
That the cobra was conscious of her presence and was preparing to attack
there could be no doubt. It showed its irritation in the manner usual to
its species, by dilating its neck until it formed the shape of a broad
hood. Evidently the reptile made its home in one of the dark recesses
of the cave. Asleep, it had awakened during the night, and its keen
sense of smell attracted by the unusual odor of a warm human body, it
had crawled to where she lay and now was ready to claim its prey. The
slightest move on her part and it would dart forward. A lightninglike
thrust forward of that loathsome head, then the powerful, scaly coils
would close around her, there would be the ghastly sound of bones being
crunched, and all would be over. Armitage would come in only to find her
mangled and partially devoured body, perhaps himself to meet with a
similar fate.
Again she opened her mouth to scream and warn him. Her tongue clove,
speechless, to her dry palate. A feeling of nausea came over her, her
temples were throbbing, her heart seemed to have stopped beating. She
wondered if she had gone mad.
She was noting the curious, spectacle-like markings on the back of the
reptile's hood when suddenly the cobra started to hiss loudly as slowly
it began to move nearer to its trembling victim. Coil after coil of its
glistening, sinuous body followed the hideous head as the creature
dragged itself along. As it glided its sinister way over the sand the
cruel, beady eyes for a brief instant were averted from the girl.
Instantly the hypnotic spell which had held her transfixed was broken.
Uttering a piercing scream, she sprang from the bed and took refuge on
the far side of the cave. The cobra, enraged at her attempt to escape,
hissed more loudly, and, accelerating its movements, moved rapidly in
her direction.
Flattened up against the wall of the cave Grace's lips parted in a last,
despairing prayer. She could retreat no farther. Solid rock barred the
way, and escape to the open was cut off. She had not improved her
position. By seeking to evade her doom, the agony was only drawn out the
longer. The cobra was now only a dozen feet away. Coiling upon itself
within striking distance it suddenly drew back its head, then, with
lightning speed, shot it forward.
Quick as the movement was, Grace was quicker. Her instinct of
self-preservation enabled her to foretell the instant the creature would
spring, and the energy of despair gave her strength. Giving another
shout for help, she nimbly jumped aside just in time to avoid the blow.
Hissing furiously with baffled rage the serpent resumed the attack. Dawn
was slowly breaking, and in the dim light she could see the creature's
cruel eyes scintillating as they turned to look for her.
Breathless, panting from the unusual exertion, in a state of complete
nervous collapse, Grace was in no condition to continue the unequal
combat. She realized that her strength was fast ebbing. It was only a
question of seconds now when she must succumb. As those horrid, beady
eyes met hers, again she was seized with that strange sense of limpness,
utter inability to move a muscle. Again she was under the hypnotic
spell. She realized that death in its most fearful form was there before
her, claiming her. She felt sick and faint. Staggering as she clutched
the cold, rocky wall of her living prison, she gave another despairing
scream like a wail of human agony.
Scarcely conscious, she saw through her half-closed eyes the cobra
gliding nearer, she could almost feel the reptile's fetid breath upon
her cheek. With hopeless horror she saw it approach closer and closer,
then stop and again coil itself ready for the final spring. She
shuddered, and, closing her eyes, waited for the end. There was a
strange buzzing in her ears. Suddenly everything grew dark. The cobra
began hissing more furiously. There was a loud crash and she knew no
more.
When again she opened her eyes, she was lying on the bed and Armitage
was kneeling by her side, bathing her face with water. Surprised to find
herself still alive, she looked at him, the look of terror still in her
face. Fearfully she whispered:
"Where is it? Did you see it?"
"It's all right," he said cheerily, trying to quiet her. "It won't
trouble you any more."
"Was it only a nightmare?" she murmured.
"Nightmare--no," he answered. "It was real enough. Look!"
He pointed to a few paces away where lay the cobra, dead, its head
crushed in by an enormous stone.
"I heard you scream," he explained. "I was asleep. It woke me. At first
I thought I was dreaming. Then came another scream. I ran here and saw
you against the wall yonder and the serpent preparing to spring. I
picked up a stone and killed him. I was just in time, a second later and
it would have been too late."
"Thank God!" she said.
Then she fainted again.